Y’know, aside from the Queen Mary, there’s also a whole lot of fish in the waters off Long Beach. But based on the nominal number of seafood restaurants along the shore — well, you’d think we were in the middle of the Mojave.

I say this, because I recently came back from a trip to Newport, R.I. where aside from going to a family wedding and hanging with cousins whose names I couldn’t remember for the love of me, I ate fish. Lots of East Coast fish, from flounder, blue fish and mackerel — stuff not often found out here. But mostly, I ate seafood by the sea shore because that’s how they do it. Here? Not so much.

Which is why the cheerful Pier 76 Fish Grill is a good addition to the local chow lines. Since Pier 76 doesn’t actually sit on (or even especially near) a pier, it’s hard to say why it was named Pier 76. It sits in a space that used to be home to a place called La Muse, where the cooking and the food was a bit of a mess, but the outdoor patio was very pleasant. And actually, it still is very pleasant — you order your food at the counter, find a table and enjoy the cooling breeze from the harbor.

The other evening, one long table was taken up by a gala party of guys in dresses. I didn’t know guys in dresses liked chowder and tilapia, but I should watch out for stereotypes. I mean, why wouldn’t they?

The food is, as the heading says: “American Seafood Eatery” chow. That means, first and foremost, clam chowder — or, as they know it back East: “chowdah.” This is a proper chowdah, thick enough that a spoon almost stands up in it. It has a mix of clams, bacon, spuds and cream, with sundry seasonings. I like my chowdah with a dash of Tabasco,but otherwise, it’s got to be New England. Red chowder, to me, is just fishy tomato soup.

In the realm of small bites, there’s a fish and shrimp ceviche (that could have been ceviched a little more, perhaps), and an ahi poke that seemed a bit over-soyed (which is to say, kind of salty). But the intentions are good.

There are 10 or so grilled dishes, which range from fringe fish like swai (a sort of Southeast Asian catfish) and tilapia, and then the typical preps of mainstream seafood like salmon and mahi and yellowtail.

And there’s a certain goofiness to finding that the langostino and lobster roll is made with candied bacon, chipotle-bleu cheese sauce — and “pure love.” Still, it’s all fun. And the guys in the dresses were having a ball.

BERTH 55

A year ago, it seemed as if the fabled Berth 55 Fish Market and Seafood Grill was a goner, with the declaration by the powers-that-be that it was to be demolished to make way for a new fire station.

But after much protest, letters, meetings and the sort of “pure love” (mentioned above) by locals, Berth 55 was given a stay of execution.

I hope its sentence is indefinitely commuted. I like this place. And they don’t make joints like this anymore.

The sign in front says, “Fresh Fish/Bait/Ice,” a bit of found poetry (Twitter before Twitter) that cheers me much. Berth 55 is akin to some of the best seafood shacks in town, of which we have not nearly enough (like Quality Seafood in Redondo Beach Harbor, and the oddly situated Fisherman’s Outlet in downtown L.A.). It’s a place where those who fish go to eat seafood, and where those who like to be around those who fish go to eat seafood. It’s rough and brash, noisy and fun. The sort of destination where you can buy your fish by the plate or by the pound, cooked just right.

Of course they have a good chowdah. It tastes as if it’s been cooking since Eisenhower was in office, a rich brew that had me licking out the last morsel at the bottom — might be a bit of clam, don’t want to miss that. There’s ceviche, served in a bowl or in a tostada. There are crunchy fish tacos that are as good as any I’ve had in Baja. (Shrimp tacos too!)

And you have a choice of getting your fish grilled or fried. The grilled seabass is especially tender, the deep-fried clams are hard to resist. (They’ve long been a weakness of mine.) Try the grilled salmon and shrimp combo for the best of all worlds.

Eat and enjoy life, seated on the dock of the bay. Or at least, the berth.

Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Send him an email at mreats@aol.com.